O Children
by Thebigsnail
Summary: Who knew life could be the biggest reason to get drunk and the easiest way of sobering up. “I’m okay. You’re okay. Ron’s okay—We’re okay.” “Well, okay for now.” George nodded slightly with a smirk on his face. “Yes, we’re okay—for now.”


Alrighty guys, I have finally found enough courage in myself to post something after snooping around everyone else's stories for the past three years. I have to admit, I never thought I would ever complete this little missing moment or whatever you want to call it. This story I've written up is the result of my first ever plot bunny I had when I began to read ff. So it's just been sitting on my family's laptop for the last three years waiting to be finished.

I have LOTS I'd love to say but I have some A/N at the bottom that I'd hope you read (as it explains some stuff). Also, I know this is taking forever, but because I'm new to this I really _really_ need your constructive criticism on this. So look out for stuff as you read. I won't be offended by anything.

Anyway, enjoy :)

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This day had ended only like two other days in my life has, and those were sure as hell, not good days. The memories and the roller coaster of emotions that taint those two days feel much like the ones I have endured throughout these last few hours. Dumbfounding fear and absolute stomach-dropping, bone-crushing helplessness have been the two forefront feelings, along with devastating guilt and anger. A lovely mix if I do say so myself. Three times now a person in my family has almost died, and three times now they have been saved by the raven-haired star-boy himself: Harry Fucking Potter.

Man, do I owe that kid.

I still vividly remember that one afternoon in fourth year when Professor McGonagall sagged (and yes, I said sagged; it truly was the only time I've ever seen her look so beaten) into the Gryffindor common room. Her face was stony and set, deep lines carved her face. I had never seen her lips so tight before that day. She gathered my siblings and I and informed my family that my baby sister—little pig-headed, spitfire Ginny—was gone. Dead.

After Professor McGonagall's sober confession, Percy had kicked a chair and began to verbally abuse all occupants in the room with what I like to call, "Percy Language" but generally referred to by the public as "Using A Lot of Fancy Unneeded Vocabulary That Makes One Sound Like A Big-Headed Git". I had taken no notice of him or what obscenities that were coming out of his mouth after that. Ron had been sitting beside Harry on one of the chairs by the fire and I remember both of them saying very little of anything, and then they had just disappeared. I had not taken much notice of that then either, because if I had stopped brooding for one minute and asked where my brother and his best friend were going, I would have followed them in a heartbeat.

What I remember most about that day though, was my anger. It had filled me and consumed me and I had believed it was my fault that my baby sister, a slight little thing with so much fire in her soul, was somehow gone and I had done nothing to save her. I was her big brother and I let her down in the most unfathomable and unforgivable way. But then she was back and mostly well considering all she had been through, so the world was set straight once again and I tried to become a better brother.

Then there was the whole situation with my father a little over a year ago. There had been actual blood and much more than a quick check-in to the hospital wing that time; making it a much more frightening and serious ordeal then what had happened to Ginny in some ways. The memories I have of this incident are much fogger than the day Ginny was taken.

I remember, one moment I was sleeping in my dorm, the next, Fred and I were being pulled from our four-posters and beckoned to Dumbledore's office. It was an emergency we had been told. In my muddled state at the time I did not comprehend much except to recognize the familiar faces of my family. A pale Ron was standing beside Harry—who had appeared to have gone for a quick dip in the frozen-over lake—with a stabilizing hand on his shoulder. I had seen Ginny, looking as bewildered as I had felt, and then had finally noticed Dumbledore and his tired but severe eyes processing and thinking through something I did not understand. There had been words thrown around like: Arthur, snake, hurry and frighteningly Voldemort.

I had not been able to think.

My brain had been on stand-still, but then there had been this fear that had risen up in me the more I had attempted to pay attention and listen. A frozen iciness had seeped into my skin and had made my stomach drop unpleasantly. It was my dad, and he was hurt.

At that moment I remember suddenly feeling a comforting weight on my shoulder. It had been Fred. He had looked at me with a knowing eye that screamed we'll get through this; we always do, as his fingers tightened around my shoulder. I had no reason not to trust him, so I did. And unsurprisingly, it had been all right. Fred and I did not have to wake up the next day knowing we were fatherless.

Hearing about Ron's poisoning was just as hard as being told Ginny was dead and his dad had just been attacked by by You-Know-Who. There was the same fear, the same desperation, the same hurt that came with knowing someone in your family was on their deathbed. And to know that war had not really truly started yet.

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"Ya'know Fred, I wouldn't mind having one of mum's grandiose breakfasts right now, especially since she doesn't burn the toast." George said cheekily, while scrapping the burnt end of his toast off into the trash can with a knife.

"Piss off, George."

It was any normal day in the life of the Weasley twins. They opened up shop for the few costumers that still came out nowadays; who wondered hurriedly in and out of the shop, not wanting to be the next name of a missing person in the Daily Prophet. The people would be quickly in and out, heading off to continue their shopping in Diagon Alley. Through the morning and into the afternoon, the twins stocked shelves, helped costumers, and swept the floors. Closing up early today so they could get to the meeting on time, they locked the doors, turned the "Open" sign to "Closed", and closed up shop. Stepping outside, they disapparited off to Hogsmeade.

The twins' apparited into Hogsmead, into an unfamiliar dark alley off of the main street with a _pop_, and started off to Zonko's. As they came out of the alley, they noticed how most of the shops they passed were boarded up with planks of wood and closed, looking barren and unused. There were no giggling wizarding teenagers roaming about from shop to shop; only a few people milling about, sending an owl, or doing their shopping.

"Didn't Ronikins say this was supposed to be a Hogsmeade weekend in his letter?" Fred asked George with confusion; his breath showing in the chilly evening March air.

"Yeah, I think just about fifteen hundred times, if I remember correctly," George replied with smirk. As they roamed around the small dusty streets, there were only rain worn "Wanted" posters of Death Eaters on boarded up windows, and a nearly empty village of grim faced wizards, to greet them on their way to Zonko's.

When they arrived at the small little joke shop, they exchanged greetings and names with the owner, Mr. Bennet, and went into a small office in the back. It was a cramped, but organized little room. There was a small window on the left wall, which let rays of warm spring sunlight fall on the desk in the center of the room, and a dusty file cabinet in the back right corner. Once they were all seated and were as comfortable as was possible in such tight room, Fred asked something that had been bothering him since stepping foot in Hogsmeade.

"Just curious but, I thought it was a Hogsmeade day for the students at Hogwarts. My younger brother has been going on and on about it in his letters. Was it canceled?"

Now Mr. Bennet was a tall man in his late fifties. He had greying hair, and almost always had a goofy grin on his face –which most people thought matched his personality perfectly. He was a happy-jolly type of man, always laughing at something, and loved to joke with people about how he always looked young for his age. But as he sat behind his cluttered desk, frowning, it made his wrinkles stretch in a way that made him appear old and tired.

Mr. Bennet sighed wearily; he shoulders visibly slouching as he clasped his hands together. He leaned forward a bit in his chair; the rays of light from the widow hitting his salt and pepper colored hair, making it shine. "Dumbledore canceled the Hogsmeade trip cause he thought that it was becomin' too dangerous for the kiddos to be out nowadays, with all the attacks goin' on," he stated darkly, "'specially cause of what happened to one of the students on the last trip here. . . Katie Bell was it?" He asked more to himself than the redheads' across from him. "Yes, yes, heard she got bewitched or somthin'! Poor thing. . ."

George looked down at his hands, remembering when he and Fred went to visit Katie at St. Mungo's. It wasn't a pleasant trip. Looking pale fragile, he was scared to even touch her. Practically unconscious, there was not much to say, making it an unintentionally awkward visit to their dear friend. Just thinking about her made something clench tightly in his stomach.

"Did you know Katie?" Mr. Bennet asked seeing the expressions on the twins' faces.

"Yeah, we were on the Gryffindor quidditch team with her at Hogwarts. Also pretty close friends." Fred said softly.

Mr. Bennet nodded his head grimly, "You know, I've also been told that it was Harry Potter and those two kids he hangs out with all the time that found her. Ain't one of them your brother? Tall, redhead, lots of freckles; Ron I think, right?"

"Yeah, that's the one and only," George answered nodding.

"Well I'm not one to gossip, but there's been quite a bit of chatter about Harry Potter and those two friends of his over the years." Mr. Bennet chuckled, "But I guess there's been quite a bit about you boys too." He finished with a good-natured wink.

When Fred and George finished the meeting – coming to the ultimate decision that buying Zonko's wouldn't be in their best favor – they thanked Mr. Bennet warmly for his time and left. They decided after wondering for a while, to head on over to the Three Broomsticks and treat themselves to a couple pints of butterbeer and maybe a shot or three of Firewisky before they went home.

When they were comfortably sitting at a table by the wall, each with a small array of empty shot glasses of Firewhisky lying on the table top—the idea of butterbeer was thrown out the window when they arrived—George abruptly looked up. What his slightly tipsy mind considered a fantastic idea suddenly coming to him, "Gred, the one and only," Stopping to burp long and loud George continued dazedly, "do'ya think we should head on up to Hogwarts and surprise Ickle Ronikins for his birthday, and give him our present?" his eyes shining with his new idea, while fingering the magically shrunken present in his pocket. Fred caught on immediately.

"Great idea Forge! I would think poor ol' Ronikins is so terribly heartbroken that his big Hogsmeade trip got canceled on his big day. What better way to cheer the git up with a surprise in a form of… us." Fred exclaimed rather loudly, causing the other occupants in the room to stare. He then took one last shot of Firewisky, wincing a bit as it went down his esophagus, stood up and paid. He proceeded to thank Rosmerta for her kindly service, took five long strides towards the door, pushed it open with more force than necessary causing it to hit the wall with a loud bang, and stumbled more than walk out into the dark street; George hot on his heels.

When they got to the gates at Hogwarts, Fred and George noticed that Tonks was guarding the gate. "Wotchar Tonks!" Fred greeted loudly.

Tonks did not give much of a response to the twins, almost as if she had never seen them before. As Fred and George finally reached the gate Tonks was standing behind, after much fumbling over their own feet, Tonks' face remained stone cold, even up close. The complete opposite of Tonks' normally bubbly character. She looked each twin up and down, and then asked with a commanding tone the Aurors used when they meant business. "Names?"

"Fred Weasley."

"George Weasley."

"How do I know it's _really_ you?" her voice steady, as she squinted her eyes, scrutinizing each redhead meticulously.

"It is I, 'Fred Weasley'" Fred started, eyes slightly glassy, "because I know you probably tipped that troll leg over, that was in that awful old house—the one that must-not-be-mentioned," Fred whispered at the end like he was sharing a dark and dirty secret, "at least hundred times whenever you walked past it." A pink hue suddenly shone on Tonks' cheeks, but she accepted it with a nod, and switched her steely gaze over to George.

George kept it a bit simpler, "Fred and I tried to place the Unbreakable Vow on our dear brother, Ronikins, when we were kids." Tonks' face softened and she nodded again, pulling out her wand. She then whipped her wand around in a series of complicated movements, while murmuring incarnations under her breath until the gate unlocked. After the twins walked through, she closed the gate, and started another series of complicated movements. When she finished, she turned to the twins with the smallest of smiles and said, "Hey guys. Sorry about the whole 'cold stone' face. Kinda have to do it when people come to the gate. Safety precaution n'all that."

"No worries, you gotta do what you gotta do." Fred answered with a large grin Tonks seemed miss. Tonks said she needed to send a quick patronus up to the castle, so someone would know they're coming—this was all said with as much energy as a person who just lost their dog. Fred and George watched as she cast her misshapen patronus, gave it her message, and sent it up to the castle.

An awkward silence followed as the trio made their way up to the castle. Fred and George had heard rumors going around about how Tonks hadn't been herself lately, but had not realized it was this bad. They were especially confused as to why her patronus changed, and what it was supposed to resemble. Last time George remembered, it was a Jack rabbit, not whatever strange creature just came out of her wand.

Trying to break the uncomfortable silence that oozed around them, Fred asked, "Any good gossip coming down from the castle these days? Ron and Ginny haven't shared much in their letters." Tonks didn't respond for a few moments, it almost seemed like she hadn't heard him again. When she did finally reply, she was tugging on the end of her jumper's sleeve, almost as if she was cold.

"Don't know, really. I haven't been keeping up with it all. But I do have some news you might be interested in." She paused as if it took a great deal of energy out of her to just to continue. "One of the Gryffindor students this morning got poisoned and—" But before Tonks could continue Fred interrupted.

"Do you know who it was?" instantly thinking about Ron and Ginny; Harry and Hermione... Everyone he could possibly know from Gryffindor which he concluded was too many to count. This thought plaguing him, he wished Tonks would hurry up and answer.

"No, I don't. I was thinking the same thing though, Fred, when I heard." Tonks didn't even have to guess what the twins were thinking, she was thinking it too. "But I was told that whoever it was is All right. Dumbledore has had us Aurors up the security defenses again around the castle, though."

"You know how the student got poisoned?" George asked interested.

"No, Snape was the one to send a patronus to each Auror this morning. Because it's _Snape_," she clucked her tongue here, "he didn't give much detail, but told us to keep an eye out for anyone suspicious, like we weren't doing that already, and to check and re-up the enchantments on the castle."

"So, no name at all? Just a 'Gryffindor student'?" George asked, his eyes flickering over to Fred's.

"Yeah... What a sleaze ball. I sometimes think he does it on purpose." Tonks answered with a deep sigh. "But, like I said, whoever was poisoned is all right." Both Fred and George let out identical sighs of anguish, only a half beat off.

By the time Tonks finished saying this, the trio had arrived at the castle doors. Tonks muttered a quick goodbye to the both of them, turned on her heel, and started her journey back down to the gate, leaving them to stand in the courtyard as the gigantic wooden doors of the castle loomed over them.

Fred and George watched as she made her way through the dewy grass, until they couldn't see her anymore through the growing-darkness of the evening. Turning back towards one another, Fred inquired thoughtfully, "I wonder what happened to her, you know? That's not the Tonks I remember from last summer."

George silently looked back in the direction Tonks disappeared, tracing his eyes over the route she used to get back to the gate. He didn't understand it either. He didn't understand how life could have changed so drastically for everyone so fast, so fast it made something that he couldn't quite pinpoint, ache inside. It was unnerving what the presence of war could do to people. He thought back to only a year ago in the very courtyard he stood in now, of him and his twin's great escape on only a couple of broomsticks; the triumph and elation that he had in that moment, made all his suppressed worries and anxieties from that year forgotten for a few brilliant moments. He and Fred had been getting by all right as of late, but nothing was the same anymore.

George turned back around to face the wooden slabs that had always towered over him and his brother, and knocked quick and abruptly on the door. As they waited for someone to arrive and let them in, Fred questioned George about something that he knew really didn't actually need to be inquired, "Do ya think it could have been Ginny or-or Ron, who got poisoned?" His voice sounding as if he was attempting to cover up a crack in his voice, threatening to divulge his aim of a calm and cool façade; George knew better.

"Honestly Fred," George heaved a long sigh, "I-I don't know." George knew logically there were at least a little over hundred students in Gryffindor, so the chance of it being Ron or Ginny was slim, well slimmer. But that fact was not easing his growing concern, and he knew it wasn't helping the other freckled-face beside him either.

But George was brought back from his thoughts abruptly, as he heard the loud grinding noise of the vast doors of the castle opening in front of him. Only a few moments later, a haggard looking Professor Flitwick opened the mighty door a crack; just enough to see who was standing on the steps outside. Upon discovering it was Fred and George, he let out a weary sigh and opened the door farther.

"Ah, Mr. Weasley, Mr. Weasley." He said faintly with his squeak of a voice, nodding at each redhead in turn, "I was just informed you would be coming by."

"Hiya, Professor."

"Hello, Professor." The twins greeted cheerfull, almost as if the conversation they were just having was forgotten. They stepped through the entry and into the Great Hall. Before Professor Flitwick answered, he shut the wooden doors with a flick of his wand and a loud bang, making the hall shutter with the impact, and causing Fred and George to flinch. Sighing again, the small man turned around sharply while glancing up at the boys, and swiftly shuffled down the hall.

"I believe you are here to see your brother, are you not?" he squeaked at them not looking back. Catching up to the tiny man in only a few long strides, Fred grinned mischievously, he obvious worry only moments before mysteriously gone, and glanced over at George. George proceeded to whip out a small wrapped parcel that had been concealed in his pocket.

"Here to give a little birthday surprise to the one and only, Ronikins." At this Fred snorted, but Flitwick suddenly stopped in his tracts, seeming to make what is best described as a squeal-choking sound. The twins almost fell over onto the tiny professor because of the rate at which the charms professor stopped. Catching himself and Fred from falling onto his old professor, all the worry that had seemingly disappeared came rushing back into George's chest and he asked cautiously,

"Wait. What's wrong?" There was the faintest line of worry that had crinkled up on George's brow that was the only indication that something was wrong. Only Fred was the one to notice. A hundred thoughts went flooding through Fred's mind. Did something happen to Ron? Was it–? But before he could think up any more of his worst scenarios, the professor continued.

"I thought you boys already knew." Flitwick professed lowly, peering up at the redheads with apprehension and regret shinning in his eyes. At the tiny professor's words, Fred and George looked at the professor and then glanced at each other. It was like a badly written muggle movie. As quick as a Ravenclaw would have figured it out, the twins came to the same horrifying conclusion at the same time. Ron was poisoned.

"No, but I think we're starting to understand what happened." Fred answered glancing away from George, and back at the professor, attempting to study the man's face for any clues of what might have happened.

"Oh." The tiny professor said slowly, understanding dawning on his face. "F-forgive me; I assumed your parents had sent you an owl about the situation. It now appears that I was wrong." He said this next part all very quickly, but taking a deep breath to gather his bearings and looked into the twins' now plainly worried eyes almost as if he was in search of something. But he continued, "I am sorry to have to be the one to tell you this, but earlier this morning your younger brother, Ronald, was poisoned. He was miraculously saved though, and now is resting in the Hospital Wing." He finished with the feeblest of smiles.

The twins didn't have much of a response to this confirmation, except for the fact that their faces had turned ashen, giving them a peaky look and for their hair appear even redder, if actually possible, in hue.

"So-so he's alive?" George asked, unsuccessfully attempting to not stutter over his words.

"Yes-yes of course, he is just in need of a great deal of rest. Madam Pomfrey is taking good care of him." Flitwick answered hastily, wanting to reassure Fred and George.

"Who poisoned him?" Fred asked quietly.

"That is something that is still under investigation, but Dumbledore is taking care of it." Flitwick replied reassuringly. "But I believe Mr. Potter would be able to tell you the story of what happened better than I would."

"Can we go see him?" asked George in an unnaturally spiritless voice.

"I don't know if Madam Pomfrey is letting in visitors at this moment, but we can check. Come along." Flitwick awkwardly pated the twin standing closest to him—which happened to be Fred—on the forearm, trying to offer some sort of comfort, even if uncomfortable, and began walking down the corridor to the hospital wing. Behind the tiny Professor, George snickered minutely, but it only appeared as more of a twitch of lips. George raised his eyebrows at Fred. He scowled, and gave George a hard shove down the corridor in the direction their old charms professor went.

They trio of men trudged on quietly down the long corridors, the only sound that could be heard was the steady _thump_ of Fred and George's shoes, and the quick _clack_ of the professor's. The silence was one of anxiousness and restlessness between the twins, for one could almost reach out and slice it with a knife. No matter how Professor Flitwick tried to reassure and console them of Ron's continued existence in the world, nothing at this point could calm an older brother's anxious mind after being told of your younger brother's proximate brush with death; much like the situation with their father over a year ago, there was no comfort until you saw the person alive and breathing for yourself.

As he stepped down the quiet corridor, the beats of the soles of his shoes echoing off the lonely marble walls, Fred had the dissociating feeling of _déjà vu. _It was of moments in his life when he had traveled down this corridor after jokes-gone-wrong in hilarious ways, or to go jibe at the unfortunate student who had the misfortune of a spell wrongly cast, causing him to sprout frog legs or something equally entertaining. But at this particular moment, this feeling was one of familiar dread as he had once before rushed down this very hall, his heart and feet in a quick paced rhythm; not knowing if Ginny was alive or where Ron had gone during his fourth year, or after the battle at the Ministry last year when he and George had received that hauntingly crisp ivory envelop with their names practically carved into the parchment in their families seemingly doomed blood.

The unsettling feeling of disturbing familiarity made his skin tingle as if a spider was crawling up his back causing him to internally shutter. He remembers how at those times he wondered what he had last said to those chosen few. If he still had a chance to see that light (or more commonly annoyance—all out of love of course though) in their eyes, as he joked for what could have been the last time with them, or even if it was necessary to think in such a pessimistic way (because of course they were going to be all right). So many old wounds and feelings he never did quite figure out how to handle and deal with after everything was said and done with their dad, and more recently Ron and Ginny last summer.

In what seemed like eternity and no time at all, they were finally in front of the doors to the hospital wing. Flitwick rapped his knuckles on the hard wood, and a few moments later Madam Pomfrey opened the door much like the way Professor Flitwick did earlier—only just a crack. The door creaked as it was opened; giving an air of lament to the already poignant loom of unusual sobriety that was shadowing the twins.

As the twins shuffled though the entryway of the wing, they noticed the only occupied bed was the one with Ron in it. Ginny, Harry, and Hermione were the only other occupants in the room if excluding Ron. Harry and Ginny seemed to be having a quiet conversation with each other, which Hermione seemingly wasn't included in. Hermione though, was just sitting in one of those hard plastic chairs, staring at Ron, and chewing her thumb nail nervously. The look on the young witch's face was one of blank shock; nothing gave away what she was thinking.

When the door behind the twins slammed shut loudly with a clonk, three heads simultaneously shot up at the twins, each face telling a different story of woe. There was a beat of silence where five of the six conscious occupants in the room stared at one another, reading each other as if they had not seen each other in years, until Ginny came to her senses and exclaimed breathlessly, "Fred, George. You're here!"

"Yeah, we uh, just heard what happened," said George as he walked over to the side of Ron's bed trying to catch a look at his baby brother between the heads that obscured him, and gave Ginny a hug.

"We were told it happened this morning, have you guys been sitting here all day?" Fred asked, wondering how he had not known this earlier.

"Yeah, it happened this morning, but Madam Pomfrey made us wait outside all day until just a few minutes ago," Ginny said turning and glaring at the door into Madam Pomfrey's office, "I know she means well, but seriously? All day!" A few beats passed before Fred said, a hint of his usual humor attempting to break through the gloom minutely,

"So, all in all, not one of Ron's better birthdays?" Fred looked around, and saw out of the corner of his eye, Harry shake his head slightly, and rub his hands over his face clumsily. He looked tired. They all looked drained of all physical and emotional strength. They looked almost like they had become strangely younger and not so frighteningly mature—as both twins and noticed and talked about repeatedly in the past few months—in just a matter of these horrible eternally-long hours. They looked just as they should be—fifteen—sixteen—seventeen. There was none of that cold-hardy acceptance of the ugly future in their eyes anymore—just _normal_ youthful worry of a friend's life; so-_so_ sadly an uncommon appearance in the children of this age.

"This isn't how we imagined handing over our present," George said grimly, while taking out of his pocket, the magically shrunken present, turning it back to normal size with his wand and placing it on Ron's bedside table. He stood there and looked at the wrapped gift for a moment, imagining how Ron would have reacted seeing it, before shuffling over and sitting in an unoccupied chair next to Ginny.

"Yeah, when we pictured the scene, he was conscious," Fred said, also staring at the present for a moment, before looking away. Hermione shifted in her chair uncomfortably, whether it was from what Fred just said, or the uncomfortable chair she was sitting in, nobody knew.

"There we were in Hogsmeade, waiting to surprise him—" George said looking dreamily at nothing.

Ginny looked up quickly, a question in her eyes, "You were in Hogsmeade?" George noted the absence of the common bright fire in Ginny's eyes, they were dull and seemed glazed. Not at all the Ginny George new, which made his stomach squeeze in that all-to-familiar sickeningly way that he despised.

"We were thinking of buying Zonko's," Fred said gloomily, remembering the bare streets and the overall dreary atmosphere that you could practically see, "A Hogsmeade branch, you know, but a fat lot of good it'll do us if you aren't allowed out on weekends to buy our stuff anymore… But never mind that now."

Fred picked up a chair, set it next to harry, and sat down. "How exactly did it happen, Harry?" Harry looked at him a long moment, like he was accessing Fred of what he did and did not know, but Harry sighed tiredly—again—and began his eerie tale of the day's events.

"…and then I got the bezoar down his throat and his breathing eased up a bit, Slughorn ran for help, McGonagall and Madam Pomfrey turned up, and they brought Ron up here. They reckon he'll be All right. Madam Pomfrey says he'll have to stay here a week or so… keep taking essence of rue…"

George couldn't get the images of that scenario happening out of his mind. Seeing Ron—choking, dying—on the floor in front of him. He didn't know if he would have thought as quickly as Harry did, and that scared the fucking hell out of him. "Blimey, it was lucky you thought of a bezoar."

"Lucky there was one in the room," said Harry looking at his feet.

And if there wasn't? _No, no don't think like that. He's laying right here, in front of you, alive._ George thought, involuntarily shuddering.

Fred noticed George's small shudder, but didn't think much of it. He felt the same way. Seeing him so close to . . . It . . . _Nope, can't process that, think about something else._ Fred mentally berated himself. _Think about something else . . . Mum, Dad. Do they know?_ "Do Mum and Dad know?"

Ginny looked up at him, "They've already seen him, they arrived an hour ago—they're in Dumbledore's office now, but they'll be back soon. . . ." Ron started to mumble then. Proof of life. Ha! George thought encouraged.

The twins stayed and talked for a while about theories of who poisoned Ron. Even though George didn't show it, just talking about who tried to kill his brother made them feel queasy but informed none the less. He was actually slightly thankful when Hagrid came bounding in because it put a halt to the conversation.

When their parents eventually showed up and Hagrid, Harry, and Hermione left, the twins survived the comments, questions, and babying from their mother for about an hour longer before they made a silent agreement that it was time to flee from their mother's on slot of reprimands, bouts of crying, and interrogations of their lives.

They hugged Ginny and their tearful mother goodbye, gave a nod each to their dad as he gave them a silent look that pleaded _please be careful and don't get yourself killed. _The twins patted Ron on the leg on their way out. Stepping out of the warm castle and into the chill night, they walked in silence past the gate and disapparated back to their tiny apartment above their shop.

It was quiet in Diagon Alley; the moonlight creating shadows that lurked in the dark alley ways, making the place seem void of any life. In the apartment George immediately collapsed into the raggedy old sofa, making the springs creak and whine like the hinges of their dad's shed door back home. Fred did not move from the door, standing frozen an expression of despondency plastered on his sullen face.

Fred asked suddenly, his voice coming out resembling the sound of sandpaper on wood, low and rough. "Why does it always have to be Ron? Why can't it be Harry or—or Hermione? Ron's—he's just—"

"Fred. _No_." George was staring at his twin, a dark expression clouding his freckled face. "You know you're being unfair. It's not like they want or purposely try to get him killed. It just happens!" His nerves already frayed from the mighty rotten day they had, he stood up furiously not at all wanting to fight over this while Fred was in a mood.

"I mean, did you see Harry when he was telling us what happened? Did you see how his hands shook like a bloody bludger and his voice wavered? 'Cause I did. He was fucking _terrified_ and you can't say anything otherwise. Did you see Hermione? How she barely said a word, let alone a sentence, the entire time we were there. Did you open your bloody eyeballs and notice how they all—for once—looked like _kids_? They actually looked their fucking age for once in their miserable lives? 'Cause I did. _I did_. They were both bloody done in and tired, Fred. So, don't you go on saying anything different. Their our friends, Fred, not Death Eaters."

At this, Fred stood with his jaw twitching. George understood what this meant; he was not going to let Fred get a word in until he was finished. Fred dutifully kept quiet.

"I remember how almost a year ago, when the whole Department of Ministries shit happened. How we sat by Ron in the Hospital Wing, bandages up to his armpits, and you said you were proud. Proud of what Ron did. Of what they all did. You said you were thankful that someone bigger than us was out there lookin' after Ron and Harry and Hermione and that they were safe. You said that they were practically siblings now. So, don't you dare say that you wish it was Harry or Hermione instead of Ron."

Fred stared at George, his face void of any expression as he tried to unravel the utter chaos of his overloaded brain. Fred was not even mad at Harry, or actually anyone Ginny and Ron had a connection with for that matter, he was just angry. Angry at this mess his family was in and angry at Voldemort and the destruction the Snake had brought into their now cursed lives. He was so completely and wholly terrified for his family, whether related by blood or not. Scared for this shit-wad of a war that they knew was coming as fast as it started. He was scared that he won't be able to keep up laughing his way through these coming years, like he has for everything else that was hard in his life. He did not want to let down his family and everyone else. He was scared of the future and George knew it, because George was too.

Fred nodded his head in recognition of what his brother told him; it was an apology that didn't need words. He walked over to the small kitchenette on the far side of the room, opening one creaky cupboard door and then another; grabbing an unopened bottle of Firewhisky and two small glasses.

Filling up the glasses a little over halfway full and falling back into the outdated plush recliner that didn't recline anymore, somehow not sloshing his drink everywhere, he handed George his glass. They both immediately shot them back and poured themselves another honey golden inch of fire. They didn't talk because they didn't need words. They already knew what the other was thinking. The twins sat in despondent silence as they winced knocking back their third, fourth, and finally slowing down on the fifth, round.

"Re-remember when Ronnie boy s'like eight?" drawled George, breaking the long silence, "And we were–were like—how old would we've been?"

"Uhh, I-I think eleven? No—no ten."

"Right," George paused, willing his mouth to catch up to his brain, "We were out climbin' a tree or somethin', ya know? For r-racin' I think. And little baby Ronnie wanted to-to join or somethin' and he…" Fred worked through the hazy fog that was his brain and remembered that day. It was one of those days that you would look back on having grown up, seen the world for what it was, and see your innocence as a child in what you firmly believed—at that time—that life was wonderful and free and perfect. Oh, the nativity of a child.

When the stories finally slowed, the tears of mirth that stained their freckled cheeks stopped, and wheezing had calmed to what could be considered natural paced breathing, Fred and George sat in content silence once again. Cherishing the fact that they could still remember their littlest brother so well, and that they still had a chance to make more of those memories in the future, was a comforting thought.

"We were so, _so_ close to losing him today, Fred. I don't know how I would have lived with myself if–" George admitted soberly, before knocking back what was left in his glass.

"I-I know." Fred croaked almost inaudibly, letting his head fall while running his hands through his hair desolately. George looked at the top of his twin's head. This was a Fred no one but himself got to see. He shifted his gaze to the almost empty bottle of Firewhisky lying on the beat-up and scorched coffee table, and fiddled with the empty glass in his hands. The warm feeling of the whisky in his stomach and the fuzz in his head was already subsiding and being replaced with harsh realities neither himself nor his twin wanted to face. The warmth was turning to an icy-cold feeling that made him feel paralyzed to the world. Who knew life could be the biggest reason to get drunk and the easiest way of sobering up.

"I'm okay. You're okay. Ron's okay—We're okay."

"Well, okay for now."

George nodded slightly with a smirk on his face. "Yes, we're okay—for now."

_Fin_

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Okkkk so more A/N heh. Well first off I hope you enjoyed this (at least a little bit) because I worked way to long to have not even one person like this (I'm totally not guilt tripping anyone).

Secondly, sorry about some of the language. I wouldn't normally write something like that but because this is Fred and George, we all know they curse.

Also, this story isn't completely done. I actually have a small extra story about the twins and Ron as kids (this is the part in the end when the twins are a bit tipsy and are talking about Ron) that I want to put in this story but I can't get around my writers block and make something creative and funny to use. So, if anyone's interested in helping me out that'd be AWESOME.

One last thing =D the name of this story is a song title by the band Nick Cave the Bad Seeds. This is actually the song that Harry and Hermione dance to in _The Deathly Hollows Part 1 _movie_. _If you go listen to the song, I feel like it fits quite nicely for just the whole Harry Potter world (especially the later books). I would definitely go listen to it.

Ok I'm finally done. Please, again, I need to hear some cc, so throw it at me :)


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